The supreme happinessof lifeis the convictionthat we are loved.-Victor Hugo

Widow Kiss

Love is an irresistible desireto be irresistibbly desired.by Robert FrostTIME ISToo slow for those who wait,Too swift for those who grieve,Too short for those who rejoice.But for those who love,TIME IS ETERNITY.Hours fly, flowers die, new days,new ways pass by.LOVE STAYS.Sundial Inscription

WHAT A HEAVENLY MORNING!All bells are ringing;The sky is so golden and blue and clear-and before me lies your letter.I send you my first kiss, beloved.Robert Schuhman (1810-1856)( c) by Waterhouse

Blogeinträge (themensortiert)

The word itself sounds harsh, hostile, displeasing.Unpleasant is the feeling when anger takes over.Is there justification for feeling that way,For reacting in displeasure at others´ doings?Should I have responded in more thoughful ways,Even though someone inflicted hurt one me?The feeling of revenge, lashing out to punish,Was such a toughtless display of emotions.And I never accomplished anything.I wish that I had handled situations differently.Human nature, the ugly side of thatMakes us respond irrationally at times.When I feel the intensity of anger,Speak without thinking things through,And see the consequences that follow,I am ashamed, knowing that I was wrong.

Unfolding powerful messages.Free from sound indisposed to speak.Unspoken words two poeple in love.Silence, looking in the depths of your eyes.Silence, when hostility fills the room.Silence of the sick, when their eyes wonder.Silence, when death knocks on the door.Secretive, concealing the truth.Silence of the stars and the moon.No sounds , when winds turn into storms.Silence, when the city pauses.Silence, which only music can find the words.Silence, no words are needed when I am with you.

Your time has come to say goodbye,I wish you could have stayed.You have given me days of joy,I tucked them all away.In a golden box, full of memories.You gave me throughout the year.The key to that I only posses.So many thoughts I stored away.Of you the OLD YEAR.When I reach inside this Golden Box,I think of you as a friend.You enriched my life with my family,And added new friends.Misfortune was cast into the year,I grew wiser and kinder.Thank you for oppertunities,Which came along the year.You gave me hope and cheerfulnessTo walk with open eyes.I will in faith embrace the New, what fallows you.

Many times in my live I´ve made mistakes.I missed the path and went astray.I fell and stumbled through the dark,Wondered blindly, searching for the way.I tasted the forbidden fruit.How bitter was her taste.Decisions, circumstances, I crumbled to the ground.No more I want to liveA life of fear and doubt.A life of pain and defeat.Learn from my errors of my past,And walk the route of untroubled ways;To find the path my feet are unaccustomed to,Toward the light, with a fewer MISTAKES!

With a touch of our hands we comfort someone.The human touch speaks louder then words.We heal with our hands to ease the pain.Our hands paint pictures of beauty for plesure,More than our eyes can mesure.Our hands write books of historyTo read for our children to learn.Our hands sculpt wondrous works of artTo leave a lasting impression.We heal with our hands to ease the sorrowThe touch will not fade away.We have been given these instruments;Let's not use them in vain.Destruction takes only seconds of time.Our hands are silent tools.Let`s use them for the good things in lifeAnd not for abuse!

He sits on a park bench, his legs crossed and his arms resting in his lap. I see him every time I walk in the park. His eyes are sunken in his face. The grayish tint of his skin tells me he is not healthy. I steel a closer look the next time I walk by. I see fragile-looking arms, with prominent veins. His thin ankles are partialy exposed; disappearing into shiny brown shoes. Even his thin hair, seems to be never out of place.

I want to know about him. I feel there is something different. I want to know his story.I take a seat next to him, sensing that he doesn´t mind my company. The sun is slowly lowering in tha sky and the shade of the trees is soothing after a hot summer day. I tell him how much I like the quietness of the park, where my thoughts can wander and I can spin plans for my future."What are your plans for the future?" I ask him. Slowly he turned his face toward me, and I see tears in his eyes. " I will be lucky to see next spring, " he says.My heart pounded heavily. Did I hurt him with my question? Should I leave? But, then he spoke again. His eyes seemed to brightem as he spoke, like some of his troubles were slipping away.The words come past his lips slowly. " I have AIDS!"No words can describe how my heart reached out to him. I could feel the pain. It made me think of my son, who has HIV. I felt the fear that comes over a person when she learnes that her loved ones´s life has been altered forever.I clearly remember the day my son called me to break this terrible news. I could hear my self screaming, in disbelieve. Not my son! I was pounding on furniture, I was angry with God.How could this happen to my child that was so perfect? Was I being tested to see how much I can take? Or was I punished for something I did? Questions, and no answers. My mental state was terrible. My daughter-in-law held me and we sobbed together. Her embrace and presence was comforting.Each new thought of the unknown increased the fear I felt. Later came my resolve to take whatever comes and help to carry the burden for my son.I listen to mey new friend and comfort him with my words. I reach for his thin hand and hold it, not afraid of his disease. I will share this bench with him as long as he wants to talk.As we part I see in his eyes a glow that wasn´t there before.The look spells HOPE!

I watch the muddy water moving down the river,slowly, like it´s a struggle to move in the summer´s heat. It drags whatever is in its path along with it. The hot sun burns down on me as I sit on the river bank watching, with my eyes half closed against the brightness. My eyes wonder over the river and come to a rest upon a piece of driftwood lying on the bank.Its bazzard shape interests me. Branches extended from its trunk like inviting arms. Its greyish washed-out color indicates that it has been exposed to the weather for some time.I imagine this sculputre-like piece of wood belonged to a beautiful tree once. A tree whose purpose was to give shade in the summer and shield the wind from the ones who sought shelter. Perhaps lovers carved their name into the trunk, leaving a record of themselves to stand even past their lifetimes. It must have been a beautiful tree since this piece of it displays such an interesting character.As I walk languidly toward the driftwood in the smothering heat, I think.....I am like this piece of wood. It has been dirfting, how long or how far only it can know.I, too, have been drifting, been places with meaningless acquaintances, endured shallow minds. Drifting, with no one to share the stability and beauty of love. This wood has finally come to rest on the river bank, and I have found it. Before the river rises and takes it down to the unknown, there can still be a purpose for this wonderfully shaped piece of wood.I will take it home and decorate it. It will find a place in my yard along with the unique collection I have surrounded myself with in my enchanted garden.As time goes on and years seem to be only minutes, I long for someone to find me. Surley I long to decorate someone´s life with all the qualities I can offer.I am tired of drifting. I want to be found and belong to somone to share the beauty of true love.Eveline Elisabeth Hanson07-20-2003

Countless hours I spend watching the news of this new war as the overseas broadcasters repeat every half hour the newest development.We are in to the first week of the war with Iraq.I am frightened for the young soldiers. I know there will be casualties.. I know there will be destruction and more hate. We don´t know what the outcome will be. I am frightened for the innocents, the children and mothers with no chance to flee.Freedom for the pople of Iraq. What price will we pay?My eyes are focused on the Televison set every word I hear I seem to store in my head. Why I dont know. I wait for this wonder, of every half hour of repeating the news to find a change to find on end.I have this burning in my eyes, I realize they are filled with tears. I can feel them running down my checks. I taste the salt of my tears, I dont bother wiping them away, as they dry on my face.My heart is filled with sorrow.A gray cargo planewith the tale open wide looks like on shark, with no teeth. I see this monster releasing something precious. The monster is releasing his prey. Out of the open tale six young cadets with black shining shoes wearing blue uniforms carrying a coffin. Their withe-gloved hands lovengly hold the coffin that is draped with the English flag. Their faces are motionless, in slow-motion I see them walking toward a black limosine. I sense that they don´t want to give this precious cargo up. It is to soon to be the final.Ten bodies ten lives are gone. My thoughts are. Who´s young lives are blown out like a candle, with unfullfilled dreams. Their family waits them home.What price we all pay for war!

I remember so clearly lying in the hospital on an operating table. The table was narrow, and I was strapped down. My appendix had to be taken out.I was scared. Doctors and nurses were busy talking;I couldn´t understand them. Had they given me something, so I would be calm? I watched their every move. Someone put a mask over my nose. I could smell the ether, and then a I couldn´t breath!! I was suffocating, trying to scream, but no one seem to care. Could they not hear me? Their voices began to fade.Where was I? I saw a bright light in the distance I moved toward the light because it was so beautiful. I did not walk;I was flowed. I could hear the sound of music, but nothing like any music I ever heard before. So wonderful! I could see no Instrument´s. Where did this music come from? Was I in heaven?As I was drawn closer to the light, there were bodies, wearing white robes, and standing to the left and right of me. I could not see their faces, yet I new them. No one spoke a word, but I could understand them. I loved were I was. I felt so wonderful so complete so peacful.Then suddenly, and very rudely, I was taken from this place that felt like home. I was sad to be taken from there. Everything disappered, the light, the sounds of music, the figures who reached out for me. I wanted to go back, to have that feeling of happiness and complete serenity. Was I dreaming?Hours after the eather wore off, I saw my mother sitting beside my hospital bed, gentely wetting my lips with a cloth. I was thirsty, but I couldn´t drink anything. Her loving eyes were on me as she caressed my hair. I saw tears running down her face. Why was she crying?Wihth softly spoken words, she told me that I almost had died. Her tears of joy left me strangely unmoved. I wanted to go back to that place where I felt complete happiness.Speaking to my mother of the journey I experienced did not seem to take much of on impact. Since no one ever spoke or heard of such journey, especially from a 10 year old.I know today that my mission on this earth was not finished. I was sent back to complete my task, what ever has been asigned to me.But I know. To go to that "HOME" where I have had a glimpse of will be a wonderful journey.